


His Gifts

by Ononymous



Series: His Duties [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Gen, Gift Giving, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Prequel, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 17:22:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13128234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ononymous/pseuds/Ononymous
Summary: Not every duty Asgore has taken on in his life was heavy or burdensome. Some were a spark of joy among his more grim responsibilities. And while his priorities naturally change on the surface, he continues to cultivate that spark of joy.





	1. Things That Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel (and then sequel) to my story [_His Duties_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11732460). You may want to read that first.

The months after the barrier broke had been rather tense at times. Not on a personal one to one basis for most people, the humans were mostly curious about their new neighbours and their knack for speedy building. The more official talks had felt dicey at times, given some of the outstanding issues that needed addressed. But when the Treaty of Ebott was announced in early October, celebration tinged with relief swept through the monsters. The King had only allowed this relief to settle for a moment, for the clause he had felt most important left him with a duty he must honour. But in the meantime, the weather had turned bitter cold, and an early opportunity for common cause appeared with humans also getting together and having presents and parties this time of year. Mettaton had been ahead of the game in calling it Christmas, as big a fan of human culture as he was. Initially most other monsters wanted to keep calling it Gyftmas, but Gyftrot himself stepped in, persuading most that adopting the human name might be a good olive branch. The King was one of the first persuaded, and where he went, most followed. Gyftrot's ulterior motive of being absolutely sick of being the center of attention went undetected.

Discarded greeting cards led most monsters to think their new home would look like Snowdin for that time of year, but for that first Christmas on the surface - their first Christmas ever, technically - it was more like Waterfall, with wind and rain occasionally punctuated by ice. It was raining at that moment, the dull clouds growing darker as the unseen sun retired for the day. To stay dry and warm, a large group were gathered at the King's house, where he was holding court with old comrades. Though some were holding court with each other.

"...and then she just threw the stick and looked right at me. And I realised she wanted me to fetch it for her!"

"Ugh, that's so undignified, Gam."

"Exactly, Doggo! I mean, I did fetch it and she called me a good boy and that felt nice, but it's the principle of the thing. She could have asked. We have self-respect, and humans should recognise that."

"Too right."

"Arf!"

"That's a fair point, Grey."

"Really, Essa?"

"Come on, dear, she was just a pup. She probably plays with those... other dogs a lot. It's an easy mistake to make."

The pack continued the discussion in earnest, occasionally pausing to lap up some eggnog from the large mugs they each held. The other inhabitants of the room didn't pay them much attention, busy as they were with their own good time. Wharrington fluttered onto the shoulder of Knigella and they swapped tips for how to acquire customised objects better suited to their sizes. Steve and Fronald were telling the dirtiest jokes, where every character kept falling into muddy puddles. Gerson was telling the dirtiest stories, where every character kept falling into passionate relationships. Hephaestus brought refills over to Flopsy, who took his cup in his scaly hands, and they both looked out the window as the rain finally drew to a close. Doctor Drake was quietly keeping a clumsy grip of his own eggnog in his wings, looking over to the tall golden haired monster animatedly chatting with Undyne.

"So how's your arm?"

Asgore rotated it experimentally. "A little stiff, but otherwise none the worse."

"Cool! The Doc's pretty good with stuff like that. Remember when I burned my house down?"

"Erm, yes. Was that last year or the year before?"

"It was... you know, I'm not sure!"

"Hee hee. You certainly have to keep track of some unusual life events, Undyne."

"At least I remember what did it! How did it happen, Asgore?"

"I..." his smile faded. "Oh, you know how clumsy I can be. And the good doctor put it right nonetheless. Thank you, doctor!"

Doctor Drake sipped his eggnog, giving the King a reproachful look. He did feel bad for not confiding in Undyne, but he had to see this duty through, even if the remaining meetings were more like the second than the first. It had been difficult enough to assuage Toriel when he announced he was doing it by himself, Undyne would probably mount a coup to stop him. Maybe if the rest went more smoothly he could explain it. But ruining the cheer of Gyft- of Christmas Eve by discussing it was a waste of everyone's time.

"Yeah, thanks Doc!" Her grin confirmed that she was satisfied for now. "Isn't this party great? It's one of my favourite things about this time of year!"

Asgore's expression brightened again. "Oh, indeed. It looks like everyone's having a great time, and that's what matters. There may be no Royal Guard anymore, but that does not mean we can't have these get togethers."

"Damn right! Weird how early it is, though."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You always had us go on patrol first, remember? And then we'd meet at your house."

"Ah, yes. Well I felt bad for keeping you out so late, it really started as a way to make it up to you all."

"As good an excuse as any! And then when I got home after them, Santa visited!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah! I dunno how he does it. I only have one eye but it's damn sharp. How does he get past me?"

"Years of practice, I suppose," he chuckled. "What was it he got you last year? Oh yes, the spear rack, correct?"

"Yeah! And that replica human spear to go along with it. What's it called, the dory?"

"Sarissa," he said automatically.

"Whatever, it was still badass! Well, maybe I'll finally meet him tonight now I'm not on patrol!"

"We'll see." He didn't have the heart to tell her about this either. "Of course, Doctor Alphys may distract you."

"Well that's a win-win!"

"Hey, Boss," Doggo had approached them, "you know that winter barbecue you're planning in the new year? You need any help cooking the meat?"

"That's very thoughtful of you, Doggo, of course you can help. I don't see what harm could come from it." His tail wagged a little.

* * *

Later that night, long after mopping up the eggnog Fronald spilt after laughing too hard at the final puddle joke, Asgore tended to his duty.

It was easier in the Underground. Less complicated. There were only so many monsters in only so many locations with only so many desires that could be fulfilled. The tradition of writing to him was mostly redundant, as many times they often expressed their hopes and dreams to him directly as king. He could have just given out gifts as himself, if he'd been seeking the adulation of those he led, but his duty was to seek their happiness. It was the only proper way to gain any for himself. Knowledge of human celebration of that day had made its way to the Underground, and it was undoubtedly an influence. His earliest costume had been a large purple overcoat with a snowflake instead of the Delta Rune, which he matched with a crown of golden flowers. But something about the bright red felt more cheerful, which was what the Underground needed, so he adopted them. Not that he copied everything, he could take or leave the boots.

That just left distribution. A peculiar quirk of the human tradition was that the gift giver entered the house by the chimney, which sounded uncomfortable at best and impossible in reality. Nobody living in Hotland had a fireplace, let alone a chimney, let alone one he could possibly fit in. So on the night itself, parents who were wise to the arrangement would leave their doors unlocked so he could slip in and out with minimal hassle. That was what the Royal Guard patrol was for, to ensure nobody took advantage of this trust. But he instinctively knew that could never work on the surface, especially with the Guard disbanded. All it would take is someone from out of town who knew nothing of monsters or their customs to ruin the day. So instead, as he treaded carefully on the icy streets while looking up at the full moon lighting the way, a festive sounding jingle with each step announced the presence of the keys to various houses he'd been lent. The weight of the sack wasn't the problem, he was more than strong enough, but it was too bulky and cumbersome to bring inside. This is where Asgore wished he still had someone to keep an eye on it while he made his delivery. He missed Rudy.

Not that he was leaving it to blind trust. With a flash from his eyes, the sack shimmered blue and sank onto the ground with a crunch. Until he released it, its contents would be too heavy for anyone to lift, which is what he did to a present near the top. Tucked safely under his arm, he proceeded to rummage through his pocket, extracting the key he needed. The door creaked loudly as he opened it. Maybe he'd leave a note saying it needed oiled.

His first stop was his oldest. Gerson was snoring shrilly on his sofa, the TV blaring loudly. That made things easier. Asgore carefully put the present beneath the tree. Gerson fully knew about who gave out the gifts of course, but he'd always said it was too much fun to skip out on it. His choice of present surprised Asgore. Not that it was a book, but it was a compilation of science fiction stories. When he dropped the hint that Santa thought that was unusual for him, he'd shrugged and said he wanted a change from reading about the past now they were on the surface. The future sounded more exciting. Sitting next to him was a full glass of Sea Tea. Despite not having suggested it at all, the tradition of leaving a snack for Santa had caught on organically. Asgore appreciated Gerson's tastes, for its stimulation would help him get through the night.

The next few houses were more routine. Young children with traditional toys and games. There was the occasional sound from upstairs which warned him someone was trying to meet him. It wouldn't matter if they did, not really, but he had fallen into playing a game to see how many times he could avoid being seen delivering his presents. For the last few years Underground he'd been completely undetected, which is what kept the magic of the day alive for Undyne. She wasn't the first recipient of his presents who grew up and would work with him to continue the tradition, though why she never made the connection was a mystery. It hadn't always had this shroud of mystery about it. At the start he'd wanted everyone to know someone was trying to bring them cheer and what to expect. But then he'd failed his greatest duty and made a terrible mistake and... no, not tonight. Focus on the now. Maybe giving out gifts on the surface would be challenging in its own way. And speaking of challenge...

"That's now how you shoot your eye out, kid!"

"You m-mean that's how you l-lost yours?"

"Nah, I'm saving that story for when I really need it!"

Looking through the window, Asgore saw that Undyne and Alphys were watching a movie, huddled tightly together. Their tree stood expectantly in the corner. This was tricky. He could just barge in and give a good Ho-Ho-Ho, but that was too easy. Besides, he wanted to keep the magic alive as long as possible.

"Heh, this reminds me of that time I was teaching Papyrus to cook, and that irritating little mutt ran through the kitchen. Got ingredients everywhere!"

"Oh, th-that was my fault, I asked you to p-pick up more doggy chow f-for me, and the smell probably lured him in."

"Alph, we've talked about blaming yourself for everything. Quit it!"

"S-sorry..."

"And quit apologising!"

The movie looked like it was nearly over, and maybe they'd retire for the night. However a COMING NEXT text crawl said a kung fu movie would begin after it, which knowing Undyne probably meant they would watch that too. Perhaps he should withdraw and come back later.

Before he could decide, Alphys absently looked round her, and spotted him. He felt a brief thrill of alarm, but only understanding appeared on her face, and she winked. Alphys had actually been the last child to catch him mid-job, and as a credit to her intelligence, she'd actually deduced who he was. She'd mentioned it briefly when she became Royal Scientist. Those who already knew didn't count in his mental score. And they could be useful.

"H-hey Unnie, it's getting late. You w-wanna call it a night?"

"Really? But I hear somebody's head explodes in this movie from a punch!"

"Oh my, th-that sounds like one anime I found.." she shook her head, "But I was j-just thinking, I've g-got your present upstairs. W-we can give them now before we t-turn in."

"Well... okay. But it better be good!" Undyne hit record, then scooped the suddenly-bright-orange Alphys in her arms and carried her upstairs. _Now._

It took some hasty fumbling, but he got the key, and the door was mercifully silent as it opened. Here his choice to remain barefoot played to his advantage, as the fur muffled his steps. Sneaking into the living room he deposited two presents. A set of saucepans for Undyne, and a cartoon called _Robo Punchy Punchy 4_ for Alphys. He then snuck a handful of the abandoned popcorn into his mouth, and continued on his way.

* * *

The next few deliveries went off without a hitch. For Napstablook, new headphones. For Mettaton, a mirror. For that irate ghost who spent time with both of them, a sewing kit to repair his dummy. A blue and purple jumper and a red scarf for Monsterkid, and a doll for his sister. Then there were a few unusual presents, inspired by the possibilities life on the surface promised. Valerie got a fishing rod, while Dub and Dave got high grade charcoal, which amused him given what the human Santa apparently gave naughty children. While he continued to take some of the snacks left out for him, he started pocketing them. Experience had this part of the night down to a fine art, and stuffing his face was not on the cards. He could build a hamper up and give it to children in need. Maybe even some human children. It would be nicer than when he... No, just keep focused on getting the job done.

As his deliveries continued, the moon was swallowed by clouds, and a light drizzle began. Ancient instincts kicked in, and he glowed briefly red. But he knew right away he hadn't done it right. The expected hiss of steam was much quieter than he remembered, and the fur on his hands clutching the sack still became damp as time went on. He would have to practice this spell properly.

After delivering a book series about wizards learning magic to Professor Madjick ("The human kids talk about it all the time, it'll be a good reference guide in class!"), the next stop was Sans and Papyrus' house. Last year Underground, Sans had been lying on the sofa, and Asgore hadn't been able to tell if he was asleep or not, an ability rather unique to skeletons. This year however their living room was vacant, which simplified things immensely. Surreptitiously ignoring the spaghetti laid out, he walked over to the tree and-

_PING._

He fell to his knees, confused at how hard it was to hold himself upright.

"WHO'S THERE?!"

Well, this was new. It sounded like Papyrus was descending the stairs. And then he'd be discovered. Objectively he knew it wasn't a big deal, that this would be a funny story Papyrus would get to tell to his friends. But a rarely exercised impulse of competition had his mind racing for a way out of this. He couldn't undo Papyrus' hold on him, skeletons were naturals at this while he'd only cultivated a basic understanding. Nothing for it, he had one chance. Struggling with all his might, he lifted his hand up to the hat on his head and just about grabbed it off. Just in time.

Click.

"OH, YOUR MAJESTY!"

The tremendous weight vanished. With a deep breath, he got back on his feet.

"I MUST APOLOGISE, THE MOONLIGHT SHONE ON MY FACE EARLIER AND WOKE ME UP, SO I DECIDED TO DO A LITTLE PUZZLE DESIGN, AND THEN I HEARD THE DOOR OPEN. I THOUGHT YOU WERE A BURGLAR!"

"Uh, h-howdy. Not to worry, we all make mistakes."

"I LIKE YOUR OUTFIT. RED SUITS YOU!"

"Um, thank you."

"MAY I ASK WHAT YOU WERE DOING IN MY HOUSE AT THIS TIME OF NIGHT?"

"Oh. Well..." his mind raced for a good explanation. Mercifully he found one. "Tree inspection."

"COME AGAIN?"

"Well, that's not a tree from Snowdin forest, correct?" Papyrus nodded. "Well we were using those for so long, I decided to check that these surface trees are safe enough. And I'm pleased to announce yours passes."

Papyrus clutched his face in delight. "WOWIE, I PASSED A TEST I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW I WAS TAKING!"

"Y-yes, well done."

"THIS TWENTY FOUR HOUR PERIOD SHALL BE WONDERFUL! I'D BETTER RETURN TO BED, LEST I INTRUDE ON SANTA VISITING. I DO HOPE HE GOT MY LETTER ASKING HIM NOT TO PUNISH SANS TOO HARD FOR HIS LAZINESS. I KNOW HE REALLY WANTS THOSE NEW SLIPPERS."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, I'm sure he got it. And Sans will get them."

"GOOD NIGHT THEN, SIR! OH, AND DON'T FORGET YOUR BEARD WARMER!" He picked up Asgore's discarded hat and threw it to him. Committed to the act, Asgore tried covering his beard with it. It constricted his muzzle, leaving him unable to speak.

* * *

That had been the closest he'd come to being spotted in a while. A few years ago he'd laughed at a funny card in the Snowdrake house and it had woken Snowdrake up, but he'd slipped away before he came down stairs. Yes, doing this on the surface added some interesting wrinkles to the job. Still, he was pleased at how he was progressing. New matching collars for Dogamy and Dogaressa, a Nail Grooming kit for the Resort Manager, fresh imported straw for that delightful little bird so they could build a new nest, an assortment of bath toys for Woshua, and then there was only one more house.

He hesitated briefly on the threshold of Toriel's front door. It was the first time in a long time they'd be in proximity to each other at this time of year, even though she was surely asleep. Frisk had complicated things immensely, but it promised great things for everyone. Everyone who mattered to Asgore, at least. He was tempted to call it a night, and come round in the morning with the presents and show Frisk how he really appreciated what they had done for all of them, and that it was him, not Santa, who appreciated it. But then again, what better way to do that than let them experience something special? He'd been pleased with avoiding being caught, as narrow as it had come, but he decided if it was this house he got caught in, it would be worth it. Quietly he stepped inside, not knowing his feelings would soon be mixed.

Nearly all of the decorations were brand new. This was no surprise, all the old decorations had ended up in his house, and currently were being put to good use. These decorations were tasteful and coordinated and tidy, which was just like Toriel. It was almost a little too tidy, he was used to the mismatched slightly worn decorations of his own house. Ah well, these things took time to develop, perhaps next year. The room was lit by the magical fire she must have left burning. There was the tree. And on a table near it, a very thin slice of pie. Had Frisk persuaded her to leave it out? Whatever their current discussions and feelings, there were still a lot to unpack, and he didn't feel ready, not while he had so many other important things to do. But again, that was for later. Rummaging in the bottom of his sack, he took out the train set Frisk had asked for, the bottle of wine for Toriel that he had summoned the courage to buy, and-

"Howdy!"

He froze. Slowly turning around, he saw the pot on the coffee table. He hadn't noticed it before. The flower tilted his head slightly in interest, his golden petals seeming to shimmer in the firelight, contrasted by the inert muddy brown of the pot he resided in.

"Oh, hello," said Asgore stupidly, then rallied into full Santa. "Ho ho ho! Looks like you caught me!"

"It wasn't hard."

"Well then, have you been a good boy this year?"

"...no. I've been very bad. And you know I have."

He struggled to respond. "Well, have you been trying be better since then?"

"If you mean I've been trying to bore myself to death, then yeah, pretty much."

"All the better!" He extracted a box from his sack.

"Is that the buggy?"

"Pardon?"

"I know Toriel was talking about it. The look on Frisk's face gave it away. They're a lot of things, but they're not a poker player."

"Well, you're right, young man. This should let you get around a little more. And you can tell everyone you met Santa-"

"Oh don't try that with me," he snapped, "I know it's you, Asgore!"

It was a low grade punch to the gut, but it was still a punch to the gut. All those times he had let him catch a peek, and reap the excited chatter the next morning, and he'd never realised. Even though those days were over a long time ago, the confirmation weighed heavily on him. "What makes you say that?"

"Funny thing about feelings. If they don't get in the way, you can examine some memories with a little… clarity. Golly, he was an idiot for not noticing! You didn't even change your beard! But whatever, do what you want."

Perhaps he'd better cast about for a subject change. "So, are you excited? You managed to stay up and see me!"

Flowey scowled. "Stay up? Hah! All those times Frisk takes me with them to spend the night at your house, and you didn't notice I never slept? Flowers don't sleep!"

"Well, I have it on good authority that I- that your f- that Asgore checked Frisk's bedroom and-"

"And it's hilarious you fell for it! I'm a great actor. Then again, I've had a lot practice."

Asgore didn't know why he was clinging to acting like Santa when it clearly not working, but it was like an island of safety in a raging sea of feelings being whipped up by this conversation. "Well Flowey, I'll be headed to Asgore's house later. If I meet him, perhaps I can suggest he leave something for you to do while they are asleep."

"That's awful kind of you, 'Santa'." His tone was devoid of warmth. "Can I ask you something?"

"...yes."

"What's with the skulking around? I hear all the kids talk about this time of year and how nobody's seen you giving out presents in years. Back in _his_ day, you practically marched out in the open."

"Oh. Well, I thought the mystery added a touch of magic. Helps the children get more excited."

"Yeah, not buying it," he stated bluntly, "I know when you're lying. Again, practice."

He didn't like where this was headed. But he was also curious. He hadn't had much opportunity to speak with Flowey. "Then what do you think?"

Flowey's face suddenly turned neutral as he gazed down and to the left of Asgore's face. "...how's the arm?"

"Oh, a little stiff," he said automatically.

"Yeah, I bet that old lady did a number on it."

"Well yes, I- Wait, you know?"

"You think Toriel didn't browbeat the truth out of Doctor Drake? I mean, she may not care for you like you want her to, but she knows Frisk'll be all sad if you get yourself killed."

"And... you won't?"

"...it would be a hassle," he admitted, "but I'll move on. It's easier when you can't care. Which one was it? Which family?"

Asgore closed his eyes, both wanting to silence the questioning and apologise to Flowey, for what his own crimes had inflicted on him. His interrogator was too impatient to allow either outcome however.

"You sure did a number on yourself, Asgore. You should try being like me. Let go of those kids. _All_ of them. What's done is done."

"No," responded Asgore firmly, "I have a duty to them."

"Hah! Your 'duty' made you kill them in the first place!"

The hat, his ears, his face, everything drooped precipitously at this barb. Even his horns seemed to sag.

"See? Caring's overrated."

He took a deep breath. "It... can be painful. But there are good times too. Like when we-"

"Hey! 'We' haven't done anything!"

"Whatever, do as you please."

A wry smile played on Flowey's face. "Using my own words against me. Sarcasm and Irony. You're learning! Sincerity's a drag when it doesn't affect you. And now I know."

"Know what?"

"Why you skulk around. You don't wanna see a happy child. You don't think you deserve it. And you're probably right. As if a smile would ever undo what you've done, why should you bother?"

Flowey continued to smile, the sort of smile he used to have on his face when he was excited, but something indescribable was missing from it now, and he was clearly counting on that to ram his taunt in. Perhaps the worst part of it was Asgore couldn't help but wonder if there was truth to it.

"There are two children I would like to see happy, Flowey."

"Eh, maybe you'll get one out of two if you're lucky."

"Which reminds me." He rummaged around in his sack and finally emptied it. "You are correct, Toriel arranged the buggy. But this I did myself."

"Another present?!" He was caught off guard. "Can I have it now?"

Some families often opened their gifts as soon as he had passed. Not his own however, Toriel always liked things done properly. In spite of the past Flowey had cruelly dredged up, Asgore's mind cast back to the Ruins, where the impossible had happened. He'd been so passive, listening to a lament he understood all too well, and since then he'd squandered opportunities to build the bridge. Maybe just this once...

"Well, I don't see why not-"

A vine whipped out and seized it. He started unwrapping it greedily. An old habit lurched out of Asgore's mouth.

"Don't you want to wait for-"

"Not really."

Knowing he'd lost that battle, Asgore listened to the paper tearing. It was a book.

" _Planets and Stars_." Flowey was quiet for a moment. "That idiot!"

"What's the matter?"

"Frisk told you! We were at the book shop and they caught me looking at this and they made me say yeah it would be cool to have but I told them not to tell! I don't need their pity. I don't need _your_ pity! If I want something, I'll ask for it. That's if I don't just take it!"

Asgore gave him an appraising look. "Actually," he said, "I bought that book myself. Frisk told me nothing."

The vines froze. Flowey had defaulted to stoic appraisal of the King of Monsters.

"Goodnight, Flowey," he continued warmly, "and Merry Christmas."

Taking the pie, but deciding to eat it later, he calmly walked out of the room. Flowey heard the front door open and close, and continued to stare at the book.


	2. Things That Will Be

Now this was more like it.

Snowdin's appearance had won out on this second Christmas. The Pyrope Brothers idly wondered whether it would be ever like Hotland, though the passing human they asked said if it was ever like that it would probably mean the world was ending. They were rather disappointed, their festive tradition of melting stuff required a lot more effort without a nearby lava source. In any case, they were the outliers. Most other monsters admired that the human depictions of the holiday were based in something feasible. The former residents of Snowdin led the way in showing the others how to avail of the snow. Valerie was an enthusiastic early adopter, but her time attempting to skate on the frozen lake didn’t last long as she nearly melted through it in her excitement.

At the King's house, the guest list for the Christmas Eve get together had been expanded, from no active effort of Asgore's. The core of former employees had been bolstered by their friends and their friends’ friends, including new human friends. Saying no was still something he had trouble with. Around a table, cards and poker chips strewn everywhere, an old topic was being discussed.

"I raise you ten. And she asked if was I ready to fetch it, and I said I was, and she asked again, and I said yeah, and she raised her arm, and I chased after it, but I couldn't see it. I couldn't smell it, even! And a funny thought occurred to me, so I looked back, and it was still in her hand! She never threw it at all!"

The dogs quizzically tilted their heads.

"Arf?"

"That's what I thought, but her mom said she plays that kind of trick with the quiet ones too! It was hilarious!" Everybody laughed.

"I fold. Well dear, I think it's lovely. And good practice for when we have pups."

"Essa, please. We can talk about that later."

"Funny where you can find new friends," mused Doggo, turning to his guest, "ain't that right?"

His beady pink nose twitched disinterestedly. "Sure is. Oh, and I call."

"That's the spirit! I can't believe I missed out on a guy like you. Hey, did you guys know he thinks Mettaton smells weird too?"

"It's all those makeup products of his, he tests them on himself first."

"I like that smell," said Dogaressa, "it's unique."

"Makes my ears itch," growled Doggo, "but whatever, he ain't here to mess with our fun. Dog biscuit, pal?"

"Thanks, buddy. Got a light?"

"Woof?"

"Nah, the Boss man didn't introduce us. He sort of ordered me to introduce myself."

"Giving a straight order? Been a while since he did that."

"It was more of a nudging suggestion. I try not to, but sometimes a little nudge is required to bring out the best in people."

Everyone looked up. Without a word being spoken there was a great scraping as the chairs were pushed aside to make room for another player.

"Howdy! Everyone enjoying themselves?" Nods of approval. "Wonderful. Could you deal me in, please?"

"Didn't peg you for a card man, Boss."

"Oh I'm not, but I'm on a kick of trying new things."

"Is that why you changed your beard, sir?"

"...yes and no. It's complicated. Alphys could probably explain what happened better than I could. Or even Frisk."

"Bark!"

"Good point, Lessy. I’ve a grey patch on my back too, I’m rather fond of it. The world needs more grey."

"Thank you for the compliment, Dogamy. I suppose a change is as good as a rest. Now, I believe I shall raise by fifty."

The dogs (and cat) looked at him, mostly impressed by his nerve. With drooping ears, there was a wave of folding. However...

"Eh. I think I see a bluff," the cat said, "I'll raise another ten."

"Are you sure?" a wry grin played on Asgore's muzzle "I think I've a winner here. I’ll throw in another ten as well."

"Call. Three of a kind."

"Read them and weep!" Asgore triumphantly laid his cards on the table.

"...King high?"

"Precisely. I have the King card, so I win. Is, er, is that not how it works?"

The table burst out laughing. After a few seconds Asgore joined in, drowning everybody else out.

* * *

After reassuring Alphys she would not have to lure Undyne away, and recounting the party in his journal, it was time to head out. In the spirit of trying new things, he slipped the enormous black boots on, and looked at them in the mirror. Hmm, they certainly looked the part. A few experimental steps. No, the fur on his feet kept getting ruffled, it was irritating. Oh well, not everything works out. Barefoot it is.

The sack was considerably bulkier than last year, but in many ways felt lighter. The crunch of his footsteps in the snow was a pleasant accompaniment to the jingle of keys. He would have more deliveries overall this year, as a few humans had gotten interested in joining in, but a few monsters had decided move away to other towns, and understandably couldn't participate. It was a little sad after being together for so long, but the fact the opportunity existed delighted him. And, no matter where they went, the rest of monsterkind would be there for them if they ever needed help.

Once again Gerson's house was his first stop. He had a feeling he would start to really need the boost of a Sea Tea as the years progressed from now on. Depositing the large history tome underneath his tree ("Human ideas about the future got boring pretty fast, boy, their history's where the good stuff is!"), he drained the offering and continued on his way. With new houses to visit hanging around was not an option if he wanted to get any sleep himself. A sign of his need for haste was left with the steaming footprints he left with each tread, his heated feet bypassing the snow and touching the dried ground beneath, so there was no danger of slipping.

As he glanced up at the crescent moon he arrived at his second house, Let's see, the brass key with the diamond hole… there we go. My, that tree looks splendid. Perhaps just one of those cookies, save the rest. Now it was a piece of armour and-

"Santa!"

The joy in the exclamation helped counter the minor disappointment he felt. It was a good thing it did, for he already resolved to abandon his skulking, so failing right off the bat was a good incentive. Instead he turned around with a huge smile, looking down at the small armless lizard with a blue bow on her topmost spine.

"Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas!" He extracted a package containing an array of accessories for a doll and placed it in front of her excited face. "I believe this is for you."

"Yah, thanks Santa! But, um, my dad still calls it Gyftmas."

"Oh, does he? I thought monsters were trying to show humans how we could be friends by using the human name. The King certainly thought that."

"He says it's not the same without the old name."

Asgore looked around conspiratorially. "Well, between you and me, long ago we used to call it Gorielmas."

"Gorielmas?!" She giggled. "That's silly. It's like they mashed a bunch of words together!"

"W-well, it was the best I- they could think of at the time." He felt a little defensive. "But regardless, he can call it whatever he likes, even if some change is inevitable over time. And whatever its name, it didn't stop your father getting that teddy bear he wanted when he was thirteen. And it won't stop you and your brother getting presents either."

"I guess..."

"Now then, lots of other boys and girls and children to visit. Good night!”

"Happy Christmas!"

* * *

As it turned out, the decision to abandon the stresses of going completely undetected was the single greatest time saver of the evening, even more than all the magic he was using to speed up his traversal of the pure white streets. Not that he barged in, but if someone clambered downstairs to greet him, so be it, that was worth a smile and a hearty laugh. He did try to moderate how much he said to them beyond Ho Ho Ho. Papyrus of course was delighted, though when his hat caught on a sprig of mistletoe and was nearly yanked off the skeleton stared intensely at him, before giving up trying to draw a connection.

The only real time wasted was at the human stops on his rounds. Because here he really was trying to get caught. These people had taken the bold step of wanting to get involved with how monsters celebrated the season, and ensuring their children caught a glimpse of the silly old goat - the comparison was growing on him - was a reward for that faith which would help lay the seeds of peace. And with his heaviest duty as discharged as it would ever be, he could now force himself to reap the benefits of this duty in the form of young smiles. Smiles and Tears. Too many of the latter in the past. Everyone deserved the former. Maybe even him.

After leaving Jerry's house having deposited the unpleasant, hard to track down and curiously cheap vintage comic he wanted, Asgore unspooled the large stockpile of bones and dog biscuits as he slipped into the Kennel. In the communal rec room, he was set upon by a dozen synchronised but discordant barks, misshapen appendages wagging excitedly as a large hole in the quivering mass sniffed the presents he had in his arms.

"Howdy, folks. Hope you like these!"

Every single part of Endogeny had known who he was for a long time, so there was little point in formalities. It was interesting to watch as some presents were torn open with reckless abandon, while others were decisively left alone. They all had their own traditions, and were sticking to them. He had tried to find the juiciest bones he could, for he still felt sorry for their having been unknown royal guests for so long, even if it worked out in the end. Soon the sound of gnawing on bones filled the room. It took a moment, but Asgore eventually found what he thought was the main head, and petted it. More happy barks assaulted his ears, even while the gnawing never ceased. He could hear the barks become whines as he closed the door behind him.

Allowing a moment to catch his breath, he consulted his list under a streetlight, the moon not providing enough light for such activities. Good, he was ahead of schedule. Next should be… ah, Grillby was the closest. As he approached, he saw a recalcitrant duck arguing ineffectively against a steady flame. It appeared Ronald wasn't ready to head home. For a moment Asgore thought of removing his hat and inciting a royal intervention, but something about how Grillby tilted his head robbed Ronald of his fight. This sort of struggle was a regular occurrence. Ronald scurried away, but Grillby remained where he was, clearly expecting someone.

"Grillby." Asgore tipped his head slightly.

Grillby didn't respond, but quietly took the offered present in Asgore's large hand. The wrapping paper burst into flames, and a few seconds later a brown velvet box was revealed, unharmed by the fire. Opening it up, Grillby uncovered a new bow tie.

"You did say your current one was getting frayed."

He merely nodded, and gestured Asgore to follow him into the empty establishment. Leading Santa up to the bar, Grillby took out a bottle and poured him a glass.

"Oh, no, I couldn't. Not while on duty."

The glass was slid towards him regardless.

"Well, perhaps a sip."

Five seconds later there was coughing and spluttering, and nonstop tears from his purple eyes. Grillby tilted his head, clearly amused.

"G-golly, that's strong! What do you put in this?"

"...secret. Thanks for testing."

He refilled the glass, and poured a second for himself. The old friends clinked their glasses together as Santa's eyes looked for the water cooler.

* * *

The list was steadily shrinking as the night wore on. A dory spear for Undyne, _Kitsune Tricky Tricky_ for Alphys - funny, the only kitsune he had ever met was a lot more somber than the mischievous grin on the box promised - another mirror for Mettaton, a snail grooming guide for Napstablook, stress relieving music for the Dummy, yes, he was making good time. As the sack grew progressively lighter, his cheerfulness continued to grow. The smiles he imagined and sometimes saw made it all worth the while.

Next up was Alice's house. It wasn't a surprise that many of the humans on the list were connected to Toriel's school. A depiction of his human counterpart stood two feet shorter than him on the snowy lawn, cheap lightbulbs shining from his eyes into the darkness. Chuckling at the differences, he rummaged around in his sack until he found the racecar Alice had wanted. With a jingle he took out the right key, approached the door and-

It opened by itself.

A figure, clad in black and covering their face with a balaclava, stepped onto the path, a sack similar to Asgore's looking pretty full. It was then the figure registered the wall of red that had been advancing on him.

"Wh-"

The fur, the claws, the horns, any one of these could explain why the figure seemed to be shocked into silence, but that shock had another effect. With a clatter the burglar's sack fell to the ground, and even in the darkness Asgore made out something in the hand raising up as if to strike.

"Now now, there's-"

With agility most people would not have granted him given his bulk, Asgore dodged the blow. And the next, and the next. Whatever his foe, he was not trained in combat. More out of fear of damage to the house than anything, on the man's next strike his weapon was caught by Asgore's mighty hand. Ah, his weapon was a crowbar. Its wielder tried to pull free, but the Dreemurrs had a well earned reputation for an iron grip. Even Toriel had a hard time releasing someone without meaning to. The crowbar suddenly glowed red, and the burglar released it with a curse. Disarmed, his next recourse was merely to punch, his fist impotently smacking Asgore's side. Interesting, there had been little intent from that blow. The act was one of instinct, and not one honed for violence. Releasing the red hot crowbar and ignoring its hissing in the snow, Asgore instead grabbed the man's flailing fist.

" _LemmegoyougoddamnedfreakohGodpleasedon'thurtme_ -"

"Shh."

It was soft, but it cut through the babble. A clawed finger rested gently on the man's mouth, and he fell silent at once. The panicked terror that Asgore's unexpected presence had induced was finally given a chance to disperse, replaced with a more general worry about what this interruption meant. It was a predicament Asgore was pondering as well, looking down at the green and silver wrapping paper of the present that had tumbled out of the sack.

"...how many houses?"

"...m' first, I swear. Please don't kill me-"

"Of course not," he said roughly, as though the idea was ludicrous. And yet once… "Why?"

The burglar's shoulders slumped, as though his mother was very disappointed in him. "G-got my little boy what he wanted for Christmas, h-had to skimp on paying for gas. They're shuttin' us off tomorrow. Look at the snow, mister. Hard t'make ends meet, ain't it?"

The fear in his voice served as a note of truth to his motives. Asgore sighed. The obvious thing to do was hold tight and call the police. They were aware he was making his rounds, a wise precaution Toriel had insisted on to avoid misunderstanding, and it would be easy to clear this up with them immediately to avoid potential issues for Monsters. And this man was about to have ruined Alice's Christmas, and probably others. Simplest to just have him arrested. But it was also an act without mercy. And when a young child in a strange Underground world could meet a king who refused to accept mercy and show him mercy anyway...

With a deft motion, the man's balaclava was whisked off, revealing a surprisingly young and smooth face framed by auburn hair. "Name."

"...C-Carlo. Carlo Danton."

Again the truth of it shone through the fear. Asgore studied the face intently, burning it into his memory like he had six times before. Then he finally released him, trusting that fear to keep him rooted, as he took out his list and checked it twice, scribbling the name and brief descriptions. There was a jingle as he rummaged around in his pocket, extracting several gold coins. Carlo automatically held out his hand, and Asgore deposited them. Then he picked up the cooling crowbar and casually snapped it in two with one hand.

"I'm rather fond of the little girl who lives here, Carlo," he said pleasantly. "I hope she has a great day tomorrow. You might want to go home and rethink some things. I hope you and your son have a great day tomorrow as well. And that you don't disappoint Santa. My friends won't understand why I did this. And it won't be me you answer to if I am disappointed."

"I w-won't, t-thank you. I'm sorry, thanks."

"Splendid! Merry Christmas!"

Carlo laughed nervously as he clumsily stepped around Asgore and fled the scene. Looking at his discarded haul, a note saying he had knocked over the presents by mistake might be the best approach, not knowing he would be greeted by Alice just as he finished tidying up, and that his Ho Ho Ho would be interrupted by a jovial boop to his nose. Santa often completed Christmas, it wasn't often he ended up saving it entirely for more than one family.

* * *

It was a good thing Alice's house was near the end of the list, for it had taken a while to set their living room in order. It had started snowing, but no flake got within a yard of him before suddenly melting and falling to the ground as warm water. Alice's racecar, a refill of fishing bait for Valerie, a jokebook he remembered seeing on Toriel's shelf for young Snowdrake, a model of the actual human heart for his medically minded uncle - few monsters had experience with its actual shape and how it differed from a soul - Shyren's debut album for Knigella, gourmet Asian flies for Frederick, and… ah, one final house.

Just as his first house was the same as last year, so too was his last. It was only proper. While he was getting better at putting his family first in certain contexts, it wouldn't do to head round here first. Besides, an after action report from Frisk had confirmed Toriel was unlikely to bend regarding bedtime, even tonight, so the timing of his delivery shouldn't matter too much. With much more confidence, he strode through the door.

As he examined the decorations by faint firelight, he could tell the natural chaos of this time of year was already having its effect. They were mostly the same as last year, but a few baubles on the tree were mismatched, and the garland around the windows had earned quite the patina from spending a year in the attic. These little touches made him feel more at ease. So did the considerably thicker slice of pie.

Checking the coffee table was empty, he strode towards the tree. He was especially pleased with Toriel's gift. She hadn't been wearing glasses for very long when they had separated, and they were crudely adapted from a human pair recovered from Waterfall. Despite looking the same as when they left the Underground she now needed to wear them much more often, even though a streak of pride tried to deny this, and they weren't really comfortable to wear for long periods. The custom frame was better designed for her muzzle and should be much more comfortable, and perhaps let her accept her aging with all the grace and dignity she deserved. That just left-

"Howdy."

He wheeled round at once. Of course, he wouldn't be on the coffee table. He didn't fit anymore.

Asriel sat on the sofa, curled up tight with _Planets and Stars_ in his hands, wearing a small smile as his green eyes surveyed the guest. The tuft of fur on his head was still taller than his brand new horns, but it wouldn't be long before they overtook it. The sight Asgore couldn't get enough of, that second happy child, warmed him much more effectively than the fire, as instinct took over.

"Ho Ho Ho! Looks like you caught me! Merry..."

Asriel laughed. A large part of it was real mirth, but there was also part of it that seemed to say "Come on, seriously?"

"...no, I suppose not." Asgore pulled his hat off. "I imagine the beard is even more of a giveaway now."

"Well, yeah," he admitted, "but it was still cool to catch you once."

"Twice, remember."

"...I wasn't in the mood last year, that doesn't count."

"If you insist. So, erm, were you waiting for me?"

Asriel's smile faltered. "Not deliberately. Oh, but we wanted to! Frisk and I tried to stay up, but you know Mom and bedtime, and we tried to stay awake anyway, but we didn't make it. And then I… I had a dream."

"...ah..."

Nothing more needed to be said. Asgore walked quietly over and sat down, gently resting a hand on his son's shoulder. That was all he needed most days, the promise that he wasn't alone. His smile reasserted itself.

"Did your mother leave that fire for you?"

"No, I started it myself when I came downstairs."

"It looks good."

"No it doesn't, you're just saying that. I'm still having trouble getting the balance right, I'm way out of practice. Um, could you make it warmer?"

With a nodding smile, Asgore aimed his arm at the fireplace. The flames swelled dramatically, and both of them could feel the extra heat fill the room. Asriel spread his body out a little from his tight ball, no longer needing to conserve heat so efficiently.

"Son, I hope you're not keeping your dreams from Frisk or your mother. They are allowed to worry about you, it's a part of letting us care for you."

"No, I'm not bottling up my feelings again, don't worry. I just thought, this day of all days, let them sleep on."

"Well then, it's fortunate for everyone that I could keep you company."

"Yeah, it is..."

Asgore looked over to the mantlepiece. An array of new photos had swept most of what had been there before aside, save for their last family portrait in the Underground and a single picture of a bored looking flower. Pride of place was given to Asriel's present from last year, even though it was crushed and inoperable. A loose shard of blue flowerpot stuck out of the top.

"Oh, that reminds me. Presents!" Grabbing his sack, Asgore took out the last two presents and handed one to his son, who looked at it for a while before returning it.

"Put them all under the tree. I can wait. I need to practice that too."

Respecting his son's wishes, Asgore got up again to complete the night's duty. Returning to the sofa, he deposited the pie before them.

"Now then, would you like to help Santa finish up?"

Asriel giggled, running into the kitchen to fetch a second fork. The pie didn't last long under the sustained assault from two sides. When the conquest was complete, they continued to watch the fire dance merrily, Asgore knowing without words his son wasn't quite ready to be alone again. Well, he had nothing planned for the next day he couldn't put off. He had all the time in the world for this most important duty.

"It feels different."

"Hmm?"

"From the last one. Before all this. The one we had with Chara."

Asgore fingered the grey streak in his golden beard. "Hmm, I suppose it does."

"I thought… maybe with a soul, and with Frisk, and if I caught you it would be like back then. But it's not the same. I guess I'm an idiot."

"Well if you are, then I am too."

"Hee hee hee, don't say that about yourself, Dad!"

"No, I’m serious. Part of me thought… but we've both been through too much. All of us, really."

"...yeah. I miss it. It's stupid, but I miss them."

"Of course you do. It was a wonderful day. And they were your best friend."

The most difficult conversation father and son ever had, even more than Asriel's own crimes, lingered in their minds. Asgore still did not fully understand what provoked him to admit it that hot summer's day, when even Frisk had wanted to spare them the pain. And it did hurt, almost as badly as Frisk revealing him in the Ruins, but much like that act in the long run it was worth it. Chara still filled both parents with sorrow, but now it was sorrow for having failed them.

"But," continued Asgore, "just because it can't be like it was doesn't make tonight bad, does it? We can always remember those good times, but let's not allow them to deny us ever getting new ones."

"Yeah, I guess..." Asriel looked thoughtful. "Oh, I forgot!"

He dashed over to the tree and started rummaging among the presents. Asgore could see his tail twitching excitedly. Then he returned with a small square package.

"This is for you. I got it all by myself! Open it now, pleeeeeeeeease!"

He couldn't refuse, not after reveling in how earnest the plea was. His claw sliced through the paper with barely a sound and the paper obediently unfolded, revealing several CDs.

" _Rock and Heavy Metal Classics, Volumes One, Two and Four_."

"Volume Three was sold out, sorry."

Asgore's grin revealed his sharp teeth. "No, this is a wonderful gift! My current CD is scratched and keeps repeating. Look, there's my favourite song!"

"And there's mine! And this one is a Christmas Song! Hey Dad, let's put it on right now!"

"No, I won't wake your mother like that."

"Oh yeah, I forgot."

"But speaking of remembering the good times, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"In all those versions of me you met, during all those resets, did I ever tell you about Rudy?"

"...who?"

A twinkle played in those purple eyes. "Well it was, erm, after your time, but one Gyft- Christmas Eve old Argie couldn't go out on patrol, and there was a nasty patch of ice near the old Tobias Cavern in Snowdin Forest, and of course this silly old goat-"

His nostrils snuffled in irritation. "We're not goats, I don't care what the humans say."

"If it makes them more comfortable with us, then I'm fine with it, Asriel. Anyway, of course I slipped on the ice, and there was a horrible crunching sound. I wasn't hurt, but I knew some of the presents had been damaged. I couldn't get them fixed or replaced in time before dawn. And that's when Rudy turned up..."

Asriel sat upright as Asgore continued the story. The benefit of his son letting Santa go was he could now share all these stories he had kept to himself, with maybe one of the few who would appreciate it the most. The feedback loop was potent as Asriel cheered or laughed and always asked for more details, and neither would later be able to recall when exactly the marathon story session ended. Frisk's final thoughts as they had fallen asleep earlier that evening was disappointment, but that disappointment would be vanquished in the morning when they discovered Santa asleep on the sofa, arm resting gently on their brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [What they listened to later that day.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQhuoY5h2kE)
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> Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


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